


Tremble

by Michaelssw0rd



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Harold Finch Whump, M/M, Stitches, Whump, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 16:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: John Reese was known for having rock steady hands.At that moment though, kneeling beside Harold, his hands were trembling... much like his heart was.





	Tremble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MnemonicMadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnemonicMadness/gifts).

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY REBECCA DEAR.
> 
> I wanted to write you something elaborate and beautiful, but life has happened to me. It is a grave affliction. I am hoping to find some cure sometime soon, and am hoping its not terminal.
> 
> So here is a tiny TINY finch whump-let that I am hoping you might enjoy <3.

John had been known for rock steady hands; for holding his gun unwavering in the middle of a war zone while the sound of screams and violence would make anyone’s very bones shake with the vibrations. He was known to stay unshaken, mentally and physically, while disarming a bomb that was expected to go off in mere seconds, stay completely in control while realigning broken bones of his teammates in agony.

At that moment though, kneeling beside Harold’s chair, John’s hands were trembling… much like his heart was.

After all, he had never had to suture a gaping wound on Harold’s leg thigh before. Of course he would tremble, paradoxically, at the time when stability was the most essential.

“Mr. Reese, we _can_ wait for Dr. Tillman to get here.” Harold’s calm voice reasoned. John wished he could feel some of that calm himself.

“Doubting my dexterity already, Finch?” John joke fell flat in face of his own doubts.

“My trust in your abilities is never in question. I have complete faith in you. I am, however, reluctant to put you through undue distress.”

“You were _stabbed_!”

“Through no fault of yours! Need I remind you of that?”

“That is your opinion, Finch. Not mine,” John said, voice barely audible.

“John.” Harold’s voice was soft; yet it cut John deeply. Harold placed his hand on John’s trembling one-- an entreaty to look at him.

John did. Harold looked as fragile as he had always been. How had John forgotten that? How had he not been there to protect him? 

“John,” Harold repeated, smiling. “I am quite alright.”

“You’re bleeding.” John glanced down at the gash on Harold’s thigh. 

“Yes.” Harold said, still smiling. “Minor inconvenience.” John looked at him with what he was sure was disgust, making Harold laugh a little and explain: “At least none of the major vessels were damaged.” 

John shuddered at the implications of that comment, shaking his head and hoping somehow that would remove that image from his mind: Harold, with his femoral artery severed, bleeding out and getting paler by the moment as John helplessly watched.

“Anyway!” Harold said, louder than usual. He probably had guessed where John’s mind had gone. “I am guessing you are about to remedy the _bleeding situation_ anyway.” He looked meaningfully at the first aid box on the table.

John nodded tightly, steeling his resolve. This was somehow harder than single handedly fighting against three assailants at once. He opened the box and wore gloves, willing his hands to be as steady as possible.

When he wiped the wound with antiseptic, Harold spoke again. “Doctor Tillman will be here in--”

“-- in half an hour. Excuse me if I don’t want you to lose any more of your blood than you already have.” The sharpness of his voice was not directed towards Harold. He was sure Harold knew that too. “I got this, Harold.”

“I know you do.” Harold nodded, not interrupting John again. For that, John was grateful.

As it was, it took all of his focus to detach himself from the thought of _whose _skin he was stitching to concentrate the process of it. He never really succeeded, his hands constantly having a gentle tremor run through them, wincing with every prick of the needle where Harold remained still as a statue. 

Afterwards, he placed gauze over it, securing the wound. He let out a sigh of breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, finally looking up at Harold’s face.

Harold was staring right back. In that moment, there was nothing but raw adoration in Harold’s eyes. John felt frozen in the moment, stuck between feeling so very undeserving and unbelievably blessed.

Realizing that his hands were still lying on Harold’s thigh, John started pulling away but Harold placed his hands on John’s, stilling him. John’s hands trembled beneath Harold’s warm palms with leftover adrenaline.

With more gentleness than John had shown even while suturing, Harold held John’s hands and raised them to his lips. The kiss pressed against his skin seared John to the core.

“Thank you.” Harold said, his breath ghosting over the back John’s hands but his eyes locked with John.

This time, when John’s hands trembled, it was for a completely different reason.

**Author's Note:**

> ♥  
Hope you guys liked it.


End file.
